


The Batfamily

by nonna



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Brief mention of Dick Grayson, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonna/pseuds/nonna
Summary: The batkids are renaming everything in the house (and their lives) with Bat™ brand. The Batman is just tired and wants some fresh coffee. Sorry, he wants some fresh batcoffee.





	The Batfamily

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the headcanon by anon on tumblr:
> 
> The batkids renaming everything in the house with the Bat(TM) brand as a meme, like "Hey Jay pass the batcarrots pls" "Alfred why is there a little brat sitting on MY batchair" "yeah im jus going to my batroom to change into my batpajamas get into my batbed and get some batsleep you know?"
> 
> and the tags by @tantalum-cobalt:  
> "YES BAT EVERYTHING lmao and Bruce is Strongly Against it his kids are menaces but then one day he slips up and asks alfred if there's fresh batcoffee and they never let him live it down".
> 
> Enjoy!

Bruce rubbed at his eyes warily as he made his ways down the stairs of the manor, making his way to the kitchen. It was a Monday; a cursed day already, as far as he was concerned He had only slept for three hours the night before, and had been awakened by his blaring,  _annoying_  alarm to remind him he had to attend a weekly meeting for Wayne Enterprises.

When he was greeted with a loud, hyper Damian––arguing with a seemingly equally exhausted Tim, Bruce could only let out a sigh and try to grab his coffee without getting noticed.

Of course, this was a Monday morning, and the stars and their alignment just were not in the right placement for his luck today (or whatever that snapchat story from a magazine would say).

As he made his way into the kitchen, he lost his footing over a wooden spoon lying on the ground. He fell forward, not quite awake or alert enough to even process why he was falling, and faceplanted into the ground.

“Father!” Damian called out, albeit a bit dramatically for Bruce’s taste. He was  _fine_. He’d only tripped over a wooden spoon. That happened to everyone, alright? (Didn’t it?) “Father, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Bruce grumbled, pushing himself up. He was more awake now, at least. “I’m fine. What are you two doing up so early?”

“I have to do some work for WE,” Tim replied fondly, raising an eyebrow at Bruce’s disheveled look. “And the demon brat has school in a bit. I told Alfred I’ll drop him off on my way.”

“That’s very nice of you, Tim,” Bruce answered, making his way over to the coffee machine. “I bet Alfred appreciated getting the chance to rest for a bit. He’s been even more overworked lately.”

“Is he ever.” Tim agreed.

Meanwhile, Damian was simply gaping at his father.

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek, turning around to face his youngest. “Okay, what is it, Damian?”

Damian stared up at his father. “The batman. You’re the Batman.”

Bruce and Tim shared a puzzled look.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked.

“The Batman. You’re the Batman!” Damian repeated. “And you just tripped over a wooden spoon.” He gasped. “A bat-spoon.”

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows, entirely confused, while Tim let out a chuckle despite himself. “A what, now?”

“You walked down the grand bat-stairs,” Damian explained slowly, gesturing at the stairwell, “you walked into the bat-kitchen, and you tripped over a bat-spoon! And now you’re drinking some bat-coffee!”

Bruce couldn’t tell if Damian was genuinely playing a joke, or if he was secretly trying to insult him. “Or, a sleepy man tripped over an object he didn’t see.”

“Well, yes,” Damian said, in a  _yes, obviously_ manner. “But you’re the batman. And therefore, everything you own is the bat-object! You sleep in a bat-bed, you use your bat-mug, you live in a bat-manor, you drive your bat-car.” He paused, then his eyes widened. “Your bat _mobile_! Your bat _cave_! Father, you already use those names! So therefore, by that logic, this  _is_  a bat-spoon!”

Bruce gulped down his coffee, almost relishing the burn its heat brought to his throat. “I think you need to get going to school, Damian,” he said tiredly. While the excitement in his son’s eyes was, quite frankly, adorable––Bruce could not grasp the idea that Damian would be so excited without a secret cause of insulting someone.

“We’re your  _batchildren_.” Damian continued, sounding mesmerized. “We’re a  _batfamily_. Father, can I call you batdad? Please? Only when we are at home or in costume.”

Tim could barely catch his breath. “Batdad,” he said, as he struggled to contain his laughter. “You don’t even call him dad on normal occasion.”

“I will. If you let me call you Batdad, I will call you Dad!” Damian promised, eager as ever. 

Tim watched with amusement. It was rare to catch Damian in such moments––filled with childish thoughts and eagerness. Genuinely being an adorable dork. It was refreshing, to say the least, and it made him dread the trip with the demon to his school a little less.

Bruce rubbed at his temple. “I’m really okay with Father, you know.”

“But  _Dad_ ,” Damian drawled out, tugging at the sleeve of Bruce’s pyjamas. 

Bruce’s eyes lit up––while  _Father_  was so unique to Damian, so special.... Dad was just heartwarming. Especially when it came from Damian.  _He’s your son_ , he thought.  _Everything he does like this is going to melt your heart. You know it._

So when he looked down into Damian’s wide eyes, he couldn’t help but grumble, “Fine. You  _must_  call me Dad, though. No backing out.” A small smile tugged at his lips.

Damian’s eyes lit up, and a grin formed on his face. Not a sly grin, certainly not one of his evil ones. He turned to Tim, his head high and his smile bright. “Come, Batdrake! We have to make it to class on time, or else Batgrandpa will ground me!”

Tim grinned back, pushing himself out of his chair, and sending a smile towards Bruce before he turned back to Damian. “Don’t forget your batjacket, batbrat.” He said. “Batbrat! I like that one, actually. I have to tell Jay about it.”

“You don’t dare!” Damian said, reaching for his jacket. 

“Don’t worry,” Tim whispered, learning down to give Damian his backpack. “We can call him bathole. You know, like butthole?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, bat _son_.” Bruce said pointedly. 

He was ignored. “Can we call Grayson batdick?” Damian asked innocently.

“God, no!” Tim exclaimed, leading the way outside the house. The _batmanor_. “I don’t want that idea in my head.” When Damian appeared to be confused for a second, Tim added, “how about flying bat?”

They climbed into the batcar. “No,” Damian said. “Perhaps I can call him my bat _fave,_ seeing as he is my favourite brother and my favourite Batman.”

Tim shrugged. After a few minutes, once they hit the road, he said, “Bruce probably hates this, you know. Because he can’t deny it, he did start it. Batman, batcave, batmobile. But the look on his face when you said batspoon... Priceless.”

“Our batfather will never stop us from using this language. Not once we discovered it. It has filled a void in my life.”

“Okay, first––that is dramatic.” Tim admitted. “Second, you promised you’d say dad and batdad, not bat _father_.”

“In his presence!”

“Nope. I’m only on board this batplan if you use it in his absence, too.”

Damian crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at his older brother. “Fine.”

* * *

 

 _ **A FEW WEEKS LATER**_  

Jay had crashed at the manor the previous night, after spraining his ankle and getting pressured by Alfred to wait out the ongoing storm outside. It was nine in the morning on a Saturday, which meant most of the family would be in the kitchen by now, preparing breakfast.

Might as well join them.

“Good morning,” he greeted––mostly to Alfred. Nope, not to Bruce, who looked worn out. Or the demon child who looked up at him as soon as he walked in. Or Tim, who was basically half asleep, anyway.

“Hi, Jay,” Bruce greeted sleepily. He walked over to the coffee machine, staring it for a few solid moments before narrowing his eyes and turning to Alfred. “Alfred, is there any fresh batcoffee?”

Damian’s eyes lit up, and even sleepy Tim snorted against his cup of coffee. Alfred only showed the ghost of a smile.

Jason, however, was mortified. 

“Did you just... Did you just say batcoffee?”

Bruce let out a desperate exhale, sending Jason a clear  _do not judge me_  look.

Jason was going to judge him. So hard.

“We will, Master Bruce. In a few minutes.” Alfred answered.

Bruce thanked him quietly and took a seat on the table, where youngest sons were already seated.

“Good batmorning,” Jason said, joining them. “How are you all batdoing today?”

“I am batgreat.” Damian answered, grinning back. “And you, batbrother?”

“I am wonderful, demon bat.”

Tim snorted again. “No, we call him batbrat. Or batdemon.” 

Jason eyed him for a second, before nodding. “Batbrat. I love it.”

“ _Batdaaad_!” Damian drawled, dragging out his vowels. “My batbrothers are bullying me. End this now.”

Bruce just glanced between his sons, unable to focus on anything but the coffee he desperately craved. “Guys,” he said, trying to keep his voice strong. “Stop bullying the batbaby.”

Damian’s eyes widened, disbelieving of his father’s treachery. “Father!”

“Ha! Batbaby!” Jason mocked. “Love it! This is a really nice trend. I’m in. I’m bat mcfreaking in.”

Bruce turned to Damian. “Dad. You call me either dad or batdad, remember?”

Damian muttered something under his breath, and turned back to his breakfast. “Fine. Allow me to finish my...” he could not stay angry when he said this, “my batbreakfast in peace.”

Jason laughed so hard his ribs hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any prompts or headcanons, find me on tumblr @zenyatta! :)


End file.
